


Elia's Choice

by VanillaMostly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Gen, Spoilers for Book 5 - A Dance with Dragons, just a weird sort of plot bunny that tackled me randomly, let's pretend this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaMostly/pseuds/VanillaMostly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am sorry, princess, but you have to choose.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elia's Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Elia's situation just really reminds me of Sophie's in Sophie's Choice. Assuming that YG is actually Aegon which I doubt.

 

“Lord Varys, you can’t be seriously asking me, _which one_? They’re both my flesh and blood. How can I…”

“I am sorry, princess, but you have to choose.”

Elia shut her eyes, squeezing her fists so that her nails dug into her palms. That pain was nothing compared to the pain twisting her chest. _Gods. How can I choose?_ Rhaenys was just a sweet child of four. She liked bedtime stories about dragons and princesses and her favorite game was hide and seek; her favorite color was pink and she never went anywhere without Balerion, the black kitten Rhaegar had given her for her name day. And Aegon… Aegon was only a babe, not yet one, still suckling Elia’s milk, the little that she could give. Aegon’s gurgling laugh could melt anyone’s heart and he was so beautiful. Silvery hair and indigo eyes… he took after his father; Oberyn had told Elia that was rare from union of a Targaryen and a Martell. She took that to mean her son was special. Maybe he would save the realm like Rhaegar was so certain of, maybe he would be a great king to his people, or maybe he would be a singer and father a hundred bastards. Who cared? Aegon was special to _her._ Rhaenys, too. _They’re my children, my beautiful children..._

To choose one over the other—how could a mother make such a choice?

She opened her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Varys was watching her, his round face flickering in torchlight. Pacing, her footsteps echoing off walls of the dark tunnel, Elia reined herself in. Her mother always said Elia had a knack for separating emotion from reason. She must do that now. They didn’t have much time to be huddled in here, talking treason behind the king’s back. Elia awoke every day prepared to be burned at the stakes like so many other victims had before, or to be ravaged like poor Queen Rhaella. The fact that Elia had been safe till now meant little. The king was unpredictable, and under his roof, anything was fair game.

Even her children weren’t safe. That was why Elia had agreed to meet with the Spider, agreed to place her trust in him, agreed to believe him when he said he could save her child. _But only one._

“One you will smuggle out of here, and the other will stay with me?”

Varys inclined his head. “Yes. There is no other way. It is too dangerous to try to send away them both.”

“It is dangerous to send away one, I should think.”

“My princess is a most wise lady,” said Varys with the hint of a smile. “You are right. No plan is without danger and risk, not even the most careful ones.” His smile faded, replaced by uncharacteristic seriousness. “But I mean every word when I say I will do everything to protect your child, once he is under my charge.”

“ _He?_ I haven’t chosen yet.”

“My apologies, princess. Slip of the tongue.”

Elia glared at the fat eunuch, hating him very much so in that moment. _I can say no. Screw it all, screw him, screw everyone._ She could take Rhaenys and Aegon tonight, flee out of here, find a ship that would take her to Dorne. How she longed to see Oberyn and Doran and _Mother._ Gods, Mother. In his letters Oberyn had been suspiciously vague, as if Elia couldn’t read between the lines. Mother’s condition must not be good. How much longer did she have in this world?

Elia felt tears prickle. She turned away abruptly. _I am Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken._ The mantra helped, as it always did. She felt her pulse calm back down.

Which meant it was time to face reason again. And that was not easy.

Escaping to Dorne was just a fantasy, a wispy dream. She knew even attempting to do so was the same as sentencing her and her children to death. Perhaps even Dorne, too. Elia’s good-father had never held fondness for Dorne. If it weren’t for Rhaella, Elia would never have been chosen for Rhaegar’s bride in the first place, but Rhaella had zero influence on her husband now. No, Elia would not give Aerys an excuse to burn Dorne to the ground. For all of Dorne’s strength, its army was small, its people too hot-blooded for their own good, the land still recovering from their last terrible drought. War would spill much blood, ruin much lives. Elia was a woman with a woman’s heart: she detested war. Men were fools to wage it.

Dorne was out of the question, then, and anywhere else for that matter—for Elia, anyway. Aerys intended to keep her as a hostage, and she didn’t doubt that when the day came, Aerys would gladly use her as a literal shield. Besides, with her body the way it was, how far could Elia ever get before her weak lungs did the Stranger’s work for her?

In all likelihood, her own days were numbered. Well, there was no point crying over reality; if she couldn’t see her children grow, she must see to it that they _would_ grow. She could die without regrets, as long as her children were guaranteed a future.

_One will get to leave, the other will continue to be a captive, a prisoner._

_One will be freed, but amongst strangers, motherless._

_The other will be with me, but what good is it? Can I protect my child, when I’m powerless to protect myself?_

If Rhaegar returned victorious, and called his council like he had promised, then maybe, _maybe_ , Elia wouldn’t have to worry. Rhaegar would never hurt Rhaenys or Aegon, even with a new child from another woman. Rhaegar was many things but he was not cruel. In any case, the prophecy needed all three of his children.

But if Rhaegar _lost_ , and the rebels won, what would Aerys do? Would he allow a peaceful secession? Would he humbly step down per the rebel lords’ wishes? Somehow Elia doubted that. And what about the rebels themselves? They might simply pity Elia, the sorry discarded wife of Rhaegar, but what of her children? Rhaenys they might forgive because she was only a girl and her appearance wholly Martell. But _Aegon_ , he not only looked Targaryen, he would also be next in line to the throne, if his father and grandfather both somehow perished…

Aegon was only a babe. So young.

_But a babe would not ask questions, would not accidentally say the wrong thing; a babe would be easy to disguise, easy to interchange. A babe would be easy to hide._

Elia pressed a hand to her eyes.

“Princess Elia?” Varys sounded almost genuinely sympathetic.

Elia turned slowly to face him.

“You swear you will not let harm come to the child that goes with you?”

“I swear on my life, my past, my secrets.”

“You swear my child will be cared for, in body and health?”

“Your child will be treated as nothing less than royalty. I swear it.”

“And… one day, when it’s safe, he will learn who he is, and understand that his mother…?”

Elia’s voice was failing her. She struggled to hold back her tears, but several of them leaked from the corners of her eyes. Her knees went soft; she found herself sinking onto the cold, damp ground.

A hand took her gently by the elbow and brought her to rise.

“That his mother was courageous and true, and loved both her children to a depth no words can do justice,” said Varys.

“Poetic,” murmured Elia.

Varys chuckled, but he regarded her with sad eyes. This time, she did feel that his sadness was real.

“You have my utmost respect, Princess Elia. Few women could have made such a choice.”

“Let us go, then, before I change my mind.”

Varys nodded. He gave a quiet whistle, and moments later a little urchin boy appeared out of the darkness, tugging at Elia’s sleeve and making a rasping noise from his throat. Elia followed him. By the time she glanced back, Lord Varys was already gone.

 


End file.
